Love Has a Quiet Voice
by wrnkledtime
Summary: A mini CS Modern AU ft. Florist!Killian. Inspired by this vine: /v/OTtEtq5x3ni & "The Words" by Christina Perri. Killian Jones finds himself seeking shelter in "The Charming Inn", the only bed 'n breakfast in Storybrooke. Emma Swan helps run the inn with her parents, and is taken by complete surpris when a handsome stranger rushes in with a crate of pink orchids.
1. One

_**Extended summary: When Killian Jones finds himself nearly stranded on his way to deliver flowers due to a raging thunderstorm, he seeks shelter in "The Charming Inn", the only bed and breakfast that the small town of Storybrooke has to offer. Emma Swan helps run the inn with her parents, and is taken by complete surprise when a stranger rushes in with a crate of pink orchids just as she's about to close up for the night. The two find an unlikely friendship and an evident attraction with each other, and Killian decides that sometimes, a freak thunderstorm isn't so bad after all.**_

_A/N; Believe me when I say that I really tried to make this short. I just love writing these two so much &amp; all the flowershop AU's have caused my writing muse to go insane, so this first chapter is quite lengthy. This mini ficlet will have a total of five parts, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!_

It was raining.

Not the light and peaceful kind that Killian Jones would normally cherish and adore as it would splash and splatter against the windshield of his old truck, nor the kind that reflected as twinkling crystals on the glass surface. But the fast and heavy kind; the kind that rattled windows and jolted closed doors, that whipped and splashed violently against every surface as it tried to dance alongside with the wind, only to be swept away in an out of control frenzy. And much to Killian's dismay, the kind that could easily flood streets within half an hour.

Killian made a sound of exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he squinted his eyes and managed to maneuver his truck beneath a covered area. He rubbed a hand against his face tiredly, and let out a groan of defeat as the sound of thunder rumbled simultaneously with the pounding rain. He knew that it would be too dangerous to continue his journey to deliver the crates of orchids that filled the backseat of his truck. He sighed, knowing that he still had about a few hours' journey until he'd make it to the flower shop that he was set to go and drop the flowers off to in the next town over.

Killian peered into the backseat of his truck through the rearview mirror, deciding that sleeping in his truck full of orchids while a storm raged on just outside would not be the smartest of his ideas. He sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt before shifting in his seat to look through the windows for any sign of potential shelter.

His eyes finally landed upon a building just across the street, the light through its windows dimly lit. It displayed a sign that was too difficult to read in its entirety through the heavy rain, but Killian managed to make out the word Inn at the end of it, and he decided to settle for it.

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and drew the hood of his jacket over his head, bracing himself for the impact of the wind and rain before he kicked open his door. He stuffed his car keys into his pocket as he grunted against the wind, immediately scrunching up his nose as pellets of rain attacked him mercilessly. He shut his door, and the force managed to rattle the truck as the wind picked up speed, sending gusts of rain his way.

Killian trekked towards the back of his car, cursing to himself as he caught sight of the lonely crate of orchids that had been singled out from being put in the backseat along with the rest of the crates as there hadn't been enough space.

He heaved the crate into his arms, muttering nonentities to himself as he dashed across the street, hoping for nothing more than warmth.

If there was one thing that Emma Swan couldn't stand, it was surprises.

Surprise parties were never her forte, she didn't like having people order something apart from her regular meals when they went out to eat, nor was she particularly fond of last minute plans or sudden changes. Emma Swan was independent, methodical, and organized.

Moving back to her and her parent's hometown of Storybrooke from New York five years ago, however, was a good surprise. It was a sudden decision, one that was mutual between all three of them and was one that they were all happy with. They had decided that the city life just wasn't for them, so they packed up their belongings and found themselves driving back to the fairytale-esque town of Storybrooke.

It was a small town, one that was frequently driven through by outsiders. They didn't have visitors often and when they did, the stranger would be the talk of the town for days on end. Storybrooke was the type of town where everyone knew each other; they were the same people that Emma had grown up with over the course of several years, and they were the people who had dubbed her and her parents as "The Charming's", thus inspiring the name for their inn.

The inn was a small establishment that Emma and her parents had a lot of pride in and they showed it. The townspeople who didn't have a permanent house to stay in resided in one of the many rooms that the Charming's tended to, and they'd house a stranger every once in a while.

Emma looked out of a window as she lounged in one of the window seats boredly. Her elbow rested against the window sill and she rested her cheek against her fisted hand as she stared out onto the vacant streets of the town, wondering when the storm would stop as it had been raging on for the past three hours.

"Emma?" she heard her mother call from the office behind the front counter.

"Yeah?" Emma called back, not finding the will to move from her spot.

"Could you lock up for us?" Mary Margaret asked. "I need to get the mops ready just in case it floods again."

"Mary Margaret," Emma heard her father begin, and she chuckled to herself as she swung her legs out from underneath her before striding over to the front desk where multiple sets of keys were locked and hidden away.

"It's not going to flood," her father continued, sounding exasperated.

"David, we can't take any chances." Mary Margaret chastised. "Remember what happened last time? The whole front entrance was flooded."

"Only the streets are a bit flooded right now," David continued. "I doubt it'll make it inside this time."

Emma made a grab for the designated set of keys as her parents continued to bicker, and she made her way towards the front door when it suddenly flew open. She yelped in surprise, scrambling backwards as a dark and hooded figure darts inside before slamming the door shut behind themselves.

Emma stared after the person in bewilderment, her mouth slightly agape and the keys in her hand suspended in mid-air as she took in their sopping wet form. She took note of the wooden crate of flowers in the person's arms, and she rose an eyebrow in question as curiosity churned around inside her stomach.

"You must be freezing!" Emma exclaimed suddenly, realizing that she had been staring. The person looked up in her direction and she caught sight of the faintest hint of stubble against his cheeks. "Uh, you can just set those on the counter if you'd like," she continued, motioning towards the crate of flowers. He immediately obliges, and she notices the relief as the tension eases from his body and his shoulders relax. "I'm gonna go grab you a towel."

Killian gaped after the girl who couldn't have been much older or younger than himself, only managing to catch a sight of her white sweater and blue jeans. He watched wordlessly, unable to catch sight of her face, as she left the keys on the counter beside the crate of flowers in a frenzy and scurried past him, rushing towards the back office to retrieve her parents who would surely know what to do.

"Mom!" Killian heard the woman call, catching sight of her blonde hair as she disappeared towards the back. "I need reinforcements!"

"Reinforcements for what?" he heard another woman's voice call back. "I thought I just told you to lock up!"

He heard the woman who had greeted him grumble.

"You did," she replied. "And I was going to, but we have a guest!"

Killian grinned in amusement, unzipping and sliding off his soaked jacket with a wince as a puddle of water formed at his feet.

"A guest?" the mother retorted. "Who could possibly – is it Sneezy? I swear, if that nimrod's done something else –"

"No!" the first woman responded in exasperation. "No, it's not Sneezy. I mean we have an actual guest. As in a total stranger who can more than likely hear this conversation." Killian nearly chuckled out loud at that. He heard more shuffling and grumbling around the back. "Jesus Christ," the woman muttered. "Mom, where are the towels?"

Killian looked around what he assumed was the lobby of the inn, immediately taken with how warm and cozy it was. His eyes landed on a coat rack that was already occupied by two other jackets, but he immediately strode over to it to add his to the collection. He turned the coat rack so that his jacket would face the burning fireplace, hoping that the heat would help it dry up quicker.

"Towels?" the mother questioned. "What do you need a towel for?"

"For the love of –" the woman grumbled darkly. "Never mind, I found one!"

"Emma Swan, what –"

"Sorry about that," the woman, Emma, he assumed, interrupted as he watched her emerge from the back room with a folded blue towel in hand. Killian felt his throat dry up as he took her in, properly this time, without his hood in the way or droplets of rain in his eyes.

Her long blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in wavy tresses and a small smile graced her lips as she shyly avoided his eyes, a light shade of pink dusted across the apples of her cheeks as she continued towards him.

"We weren't expecting anyone else and my mom's kinda just –" she felt herself pause, stare and swallow harshly as she met his eyes, immediately taken aback by how blue they were. At that moment, she felt as if all the breath had been knocked right out of her as she takes him in, all twinkling blue eyes and matted down hair.

A silence fell over the two of them as they take each other in, their breaths held as they wait for one or the other to make the first move. The flames of the fireplace crackled and the shadows of their figures wavered on the wall behind them.

He noticed her then, really noticed her, more elaborately than he had ever anticipated to. He was a florist, he had an eye for detail for crying out loud, but he couldn't help but find himself drowning in the very essence of her being at that moment in time.

He noticed the green of her eyes and how the color flickered by the slightest shade when it was under the light. He noticed the silky strands of golden that framed her face in the simplest manner, yet it made her look like she had just stepped out from a royal ceremony and she was the crowned princess. He noticed her button nose and her dented chin, her slender neck and her creamy skin, her pink lips and the softness of her expression despite the slight furrow between her brows.

He noticed her then, really noticed her, and decided that he wanted to know what her voice tasted like between his lips.

Emma's breath was caught in her throat as she took her time studying him. His expression was that of awe and careful consideration, and she found herself practically immobilized as his eyes flitted across her face.

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from his as she studied the dark stubble that dotted his face, the crinkles around his eyes and the charming dimples that dented his cheeks as he drank her in. She bit back a smile as she caught sight of his hair, tousled and messy as if he had ran his hand through it multiple times. She wondered what the dark tufts of hair would feel like between the spaces of her fingers, and she felt a blush swiftly rise to her cheeks at the thought of the intimacy.

She noticed the depth of his eyes, how blue and stormy they were and how they reminded her of the sea. She noticed the flush of his tanned skin that peeked out from underneath the collar of his shirt, and she noticed the scar that ran in a nearly invisible jagged line atop the apple of his cheek. She wondered what story went along with it; she wondered what he had to offer, where he came from, his experiences and beginnings. She thought about it all, and she wondered if he was thinking the same way, too.

Emma's eyes somehow landed on the coat rack, and she took in how complete and picturesque it looked with the third coat next in conjunction with hers and her father's.

"Do you mind?" he queried hesitantly as his gaze followed hers. Emma swooned at the sound of his voice because _of course _he had an accent. She memorized and tucked his slight English lilt into the back of her mind and hoped that he didn't notice the deepening of her blush as she willed for her mouth to work.

"No," she managed to reply. "Uh, it's okay."

He visibly relaxed and she wanted to laugh giddily at his concern, but instead she couldn't help but send him a reassuring smile, one which he eagerly mirrored.

Just then, Mary Margaret scurried in, greeting Killian with a startled hello and causing him and Emma to jump in surprise. Emma groaned inwardly at her mother's timing, and she willed for herself to not blush as she found him sneaking glances towards her as her mother rambled on about getting him cleaned up.

As Mary Margaret continued, Emma took the opportunity to sneak her own glances towards the stranger. She unconsciously tilted her head to the side as she took in his profile, tracing his jaw with her eyes and feeling her breath catch in her throat at the smiles he supplied her mother. His eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips would easily slip from genuine grins to gentle smiles, and Emma wanted more than nothing than to pinch herself and see if it was all a dream.

"Emma," her mother said, causing her to snap out of her reverie.

"Huh?" Emma supplied, feeling the heat crawl up her neck as the stranger looked at her in amusement.

"Did you hear a single word I said?" Mary Margaret chastised, placing her hands on her hips in a scolding manner.

Emma fought off a blush as a hurricane of emotions whirled around inside of her.

"Uh, no?"

Mary Margaret snorted and the handsome stranger coughed out a laugh, and Emma couldn't help but smile at the sound.

"Lock up for real this time, would you?" Mary Margaret smiled knowingly, causing Emma to purse her lips as she wracked her mind for a retort. "And mop up the water, please. I'm gonna take our guest to the back to see if your father has any clothes that could fit him. And I have to go tell your father that the mops did come in hand after all."

Emma rolled her eyes as her mother disappeared with the stranger, and she exhaled yet another sigh as she stepped around the puddles of water that the stranger had brought in before grabbing the keys. She locked the front door, feeling satisfied as the door clicked shut, and she swiftly mopped up the floor before finding herself behind the counter.

Emma leaned forward on her elbows, staring at the crate of pink orchids in awe. She studied the glittering droplets of rain that sat heavily on the delicate petals, and the pads of her fingertips brushed alongside the outline of the flowers lightly.

She felt her heart squeeze faintly as she ran her fingers around the smooth edges of the petal, allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of her lips as the flowers' sweet aroma invaded her senses. Emma never considered herself a flower person; she was never really one for sentiments or romantic gestures, but she felt her racing mind slow down as she studied the orchids, finding them to a glimmering sign of hope.

The sound of footsteps caused her to jolt slightly as they grew nearer, and she immediately shifted her weight on her feet as she pretended to busy herself with a pen and the guestbook.

She kept her eyes focused on the pages filled with various signatures and their assigned room numbers, allowing her hair to cover half of her face. Her stomach flipped as the footsteps grew tentative before they stopped short. Emma drew her eyes upwards, coming face to face with the one person who caused her to become instantly speechless.

Killian's uncomfortably damp t-shirt and flannel duo had been swapped with a long-sleeved shirt, and he was extremely grateful for the warmth that it provided. Emma's eyes lingered on his forearms that had been exposed after he had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, and he felt a foreign feeling flutter through him as he followed her movements thoughtfully.

He blinked at her as she smiled at him; a soft, timid smile that graced her features and her brightened her eyes. He wordlessly mimicked her, finding himself dizzy with happiness and warmth as her grin widened.

"Hi," he greeted dumbly.

Emma's eyes twinkled as she responded, "Hi,"

"Uh, your mum – Mary Margaret?"

Emma nodded, an easy smile on her face as she listened to him.

"Well, Mary Margaret told me to come to you for a key." He continued, fiddling with the hem of his shirt before he looked up at her again. "For a room?"

Emma blinked at him in surprise, "You're staying?"

Killian opened his mouth to respond, unsure of what to say as he took in Emma's flustered expression.

"Jesus, I didn't mean it like that," Emma stuttered out of embarrassment, causing his heart to inflate in size as he tried to hide a grin. "I just, um – we don't normally get guests here, you know? It's such a small town and – you know what? Let me get you that key."

Emma promptly turned on her heel, unable to make eye contact with him as she squeezed her eyes shut at her slip up. She wanted nothing more than to slap her hands over her cheeks to hide her evident blush, but she merely let out a deep breath before flipping open the chest which held the collection of unassigned keys.

Killian bit back a laugh as she turned her back to him,

She stuck her hand inside and allowed her fingers to dance over the cool metal keys before she finally gripped one and pulled it out. She slid the key ring onto her index finger out of habit as she turned back around, making a grab for the nearest pen before flipping to the next page of the sign in sheet. She searched the key for its number engraving before stopping short as it finally came into view.

_27, _she wrote slowly as she blinked several times, wondering if her vision was suddenly playing tricks on her. Room twenty seven; that was the room directly across from hers. Emma hesitated, hoping he hadn't noticed before she turned the sign in book to face him. She handed him the pen, to which he promptly took with the raise of his eyebrows before he signed his name with a flourish.

Emma held out the key to him, her breath catching in her throat as his fingertips brushed against hers. His touch lingered, warming her from the inside out and igniting a spark of foreign emotions as their eyes met for a stuttering moment. It lasted a heartbeat, if anything, but she felt as if her entire world had been shifted off of its own axis as he invaded her senses.

"Thank you," Killian murmured, causing her to jolt slightly and drop her hand from his. She ignored the desire to wrap her fingers around his own and sent him a timid smile instead.

"No problem," she replied softly. She tilted her head to the side, giving him a gentle smile, something that he could definitely get used to seeing, before she continued. "I should uh, finish cleaning up and put everything away for the night."

"Right," Killian replied, nodding his head and resisting the urge to smack himself in the face for taking up so much of her time. "Right, of course."

His gaze shifted away from Emma's and landed on his crate of orchids, relieved to find them still intact and in their proper arrangement despite the wind from the storm. He stepped forward, reaching out his arms to take them before her voice stopped him.

"Wait," she said, her smile shy and hesitant as she took in his curious expression. "You could leave them here, if you'd like. Or if you, er, don't mind it? They look really nice, the whole arrangement and all."

His stunned expression slowly morphed into one of realization, and he smiled at her bashfully, using his index finger to scratch behind his ear in a nervous gesture. The tips of his ears flushed pink and Emma wanted to melt right then and there as he grinned, eventually managing to nod his head.

"Yeah, sure," he answered in addition with his nod. He stepped backwards from the counter, avoiding her gaze as he felt heat crawl up his skin because she _liked _his arrangements. His eyes fell on the mop and its bucket, finding it in the very place the puddle he had left once was. He winced, turning back to face her with an apologetic expression etched across his face. "Sorry 'bout the mess, the storm got, uh, a bit crazy."

Emma blinked at him, surprised by his apology before her lips turned upwards into an easy smile.

"No harm done," she replied lightly with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'm glad you're safe." Emma stopped short, realizing the words that had come out of her mouth were intended for her mind, not his ears, and she watched with flushed cheeks as his eyes widened comically in response.

Killian's heart stuttered in his chest and the blood rang in his ears mercilessly, and he itched to send her his biggest grin and hold her to his body, but her flustered and confused expression caused him to simmer down.

"I mean –" she stuttered, desperately wishing that an empty void would swallow her up right then and there.

"I know," Killian suddenly interjected, giving her a reassuring grin, but she didn't miss the way his blue eyes twinkled. Her shoulders sagged in relief that he hadn't teased her for voicing her thoughts, and her stomach fluttered at the two words that slipped out of his mouth.

The smiles lingered on their lips once more, and Emma reluctantly sighed as her sore feet and aching back reminded her of her hard days of work and the sleep that her body was yearning for.

"Goodnight," she all but whispered to him.

She watched as his eyes softened significantly, and he took another step backwards as he nodded once.

"Goodnight," he responded slowly and just as soft, as if he was waiting for her to add onto his sentence.

Emma arched a brow upwards at him, knowing that he knew and had heard her name after her exchange with her mother.

"Swan," she supplied nonetheless. "Emma Swan."

"Emma," he repeated at a leisurely pace, letting the name roll off of his tongue effortlessly, and Emma could've sworn that that was the first time she had ever heard her name. "Goodnight, Emma."

He sent her one last smile before he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall, and she stared after him, her mind reeling and dazed before realizing that she had never caught his name.

She furrowed her eyebrows, turning the sign in book so that it would face her before her eyes landed on the most recent entry.

_Killian Jones. _

_Huh, _she thought. She'd never been too interested or curious about names, but she thought his suited him quite nicely.

After lugging the mop into the closet within the back office, Emma fumbled around through the dark as she searched the shelves for a watering can. She didn't want Killian's flowers to wilt overnight, and she felt as if she had some responsibility in taking care of them after asking him to leave them out on the front desk for show.

She finally found what she was looking for and let out a quiet noise of victory. She made her way towards the communal sink which was randomly set in the very back corner of the office; they never made much use of it, but they'd always find the sudden occasion to switch the taps on.

Emma weaved her way through the dimness of the room as she stifled a yawn, finally reaching the front desk and the crate of flowers after longer than necessary. She tipped the watering can, watching in a dreamlike fascination as the dark soil effortlessly soaked up the water. Tiny droplets of water sat atop the petals of the flowers like mini crystals, and Emma found herself smiling at the simplicity and beauty that they had to offer.

She left the watering can on the inner corner of her desk, deciding that she'd use it from that moment forward so long that the flowers were still there. The thought dawned on her; Killian could pick up and leave at any given moment. It didn't seem like his visit was planned, and Emma's stomach churned nervously at the thought.

Emma organized the desk one last time before switching off the computer and powering off the radio which had been playing the background music for the past few hours. She shut the lights to the front entrance before letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. She padded her way through the narrow hallway lined with rooms, trying to keep her steps light and quiet as she didn't want to disturb the guests.

She stood in front of her room fumbling slightly with her keys as the sound of running water resonates from the room directly across from hers. _Killian. _Emma held her breath, unlocking her door as quietly as possible before slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. She let out a tired sigh, sidling further inside as she makes quick work of going through her nightly routine.

As Emma meandered back over towards her front door to shut off the entrance's lights, the gentle sound of a low humming caught her attention. She paused, knowing exactly who it was, and stopping short before straining her ears to listen to the comforting melody.

Emma caught onto the melody, following it as she started humming the words herself; it was a song that she knew all too well. She furrowed her eyebrows before she recalled that it had also been the very song that had been playing in the background just before Killian had wished her a goodnight.

_I know that we're both afraid, we've both made the same mistakes. An open heart is an open wound to you. And in the wind of a heavy choice, __**love has a quiet voice.**__ Still your mind, now I'm yours to choose._

She didn't know what it meant, this coincidence that they were humming along to the same tune, and whether it was a coincidence or not; and she desperately wanted to. But Emma decided that it would be just the beginning for the two of them – the beginning of something new, of something restless and wild and utterly, completely wonderful.


	2. Two

_A/N; Thank you all so much for all the favorites and reviews that have been added for this story! I appreciate it more than you could imagine and the support has blown me away. Here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy! _

Thin slivers of the early morning sunlight filtered in through the large paned windows of the inn, and Emma blinked the sleep blearily out of her eyes as she continued her morning tasks of preparing to open.

She always woke up early; she wasn't a morning person at all, but waking up before the sun had even risen had become a habit once she started working at the inn for her parents. They normally didn't open the establishment up to the outside world until eight in the morning, and Emma glanced at the old grandfather clock beside the fireplace, sighing to herself as the time read half past six.

Emma rolled her neck and stretched her arms before fiddling with the ends of her hair as she lazily replied to emails, as if she was stuck in an early morning trance that only the afternoon hours could break.

Her mind unintentionally drifted off to Killian, and she nearly groaned out loud as a reprimand to herself. She thought of his mussed hair and his gentle voice, and she wondered what it sounded like in the morning. She spun around in her desk chair once, letting out a wistful sigh as her eyes wandered over to the crate of orchids.

Emma studied them, as if she was seeing them in a new light, and took note of the careful amount of detail and attention that had been put into the arrangement. She appreciated the placement of each flower, impressed by the easy mix of pinks, whites, and greens.

The flowers interested her, and so did he, not that she'd allow herself to dwell on that fact for too long. She was interested in the flowers and how often he tended to them, because she could see that they were obviously well-tended too. She wondered if he had his own little area sectioned off for the flowers and if he had a favorite type. (The orchids were her favorite, she decided, but she supposed that she was partially biased, as seeing him with them made her appreciate them just a bit more.)

A few short moments later, Emma's cell phone buzzed loudly in the quiet room, startling her out of her thoughts and causing her to frown in confusion. She caught sight of the caller ID and the contact picture before letting out a snort of amusement.

"Good morning," Emma mused as she spoke into the phone. "It's about time you called, I was beginning to think you wouldn't."

"You are so lucky that you're my best friend," she heard Elsa grumble from the other end of the line. "I woke up this early just for you."

"Drama queen," Emma retorted in response.

"No," Elsa countered. "Just the queen."

Emma rolled her eyes, pressing her phone into her shoulder as she stood up to lean over and supply the orchids with some water.

"You're up early this morning," Elsa said, sounding suspicious. "And you sound happy. What's going on?"

Emma wracked her mind for a comeback, unable to find an answer to her unexplainable sense of contentment that she felt that morning.

"I –" she stalled, finding herself at a loss for words, knowing that her best friend knew her better than anyone, and that she'd immediately catch on.

"Oh my god," Elsa muttered, and Emma could practically see her eyes widen comically through the tone of her voice. "Oh my – _no way_, you met someone!"

"Elsa –"

"Holy crap, I'm right, aren't I? Of course I am, Emma, this is _huge!_" Elsa exclaimed, causing Emma to wince. "Did you meet him at the inn last night? Outside the inn? Did you go somewhere without me? Did this happen last night? Emma, answer me! Wait, is it even a guy?"

"God, for not being a morning person you sure do have quite the mouth on you at this hour," Emma interjected.

"Emma, I swear –"

"Fine!" Emma snapped. "Fine, yes. I did meet someone last night. A guy, to answer your burning question. At the inn. But this isn't why I wanted you to be up this early!"

"Are you kidding me?" Elsa replied. "I don't care that I have to deliver your breakfast goods to feed your guests, Anna's already baking up a storm. What I need to know, is the story behind this."

So with a sigh and a noise of protest, Emma did just that and launched into the tale of meeting Killian, one which she hoped she would get to tell over and over again. Emma fingered the petals of the orchids delicately, a soft smile playing on her lips as Elsa would let out the occasional squeal.

Emma looked up from the flowers as her mother and father emerged from the hallway, and she noticed how much brighter it had gotten. She listened absentmindedly as Elsa continued to ramble on, and she greeted her parents each with a quick peck on the cheek before they shot her tiny smiles laced with the slightest bit of pride, causing her heart to swell.

Their guests had begun to file in soon after that, and she watched as her parents greeted each and every single one of them, some being familiar faces and some not so much. They all helped themselves to the fresh array of breakfast foods that they had catered from the bakery that Elsa and her sister, Anna, ran together.

Emma tuned herself back into Elsa's excited chatter, biting back a laugh as her friend rambled on about wedding bells and the cake she'd be baking just for the occasion. Emma snorted out a laugh, unable to help herself.

Just then, a dark head of hair captured her attention out of the corner of her eye, and Emma felt herself take in a sharp intake of breath. Emma snapped upright, jolting away from the flowers and sitting herself down in her seat as she intentionally pressed her phone closer to her ear.

"Yes, so we're out of croissants and muffins," Emma interrupted, putting on her best business voice as she became all too aware of Killian's presence. "I'll be needing about five dozen for each, if that's alright."

"Emma, what are you –" Elsa began before Emma could practically hear the wheels in her friend's head immediately click. "_Ohhh,_" Elsa drawled, a teasing smirk evident through the tone of her voice. "He's there, isn't he?"

"Elsa –"

"Is he cute?" Elsa continued relentlessly. "At least tell me that!"

Emma wanted to scream out the obvious, knowing that her best friend had now made it her personal mission to tease her mercilessly for her growing crush. Emma fidgeted in her seat, letting out a strangled noise of annoyance as Elsa practically cackled at her reactions from the opposite end of the line.

Killian suddenly caught her eye, his eyes all bright and twinkling as he lifted a hand towards her in greeting. She felt herself blush, much to her horror, and she sent him a smile in response.

"You aren't responding," Elsa stated, her voice laced with laughter. "Are you making eyes with him?"

"Elsa!" Emma nearly shrieked in surprise, her blush deepening knowing that Killian had more than likely seen her reaction. She averted her gaze, flitting her gaze downwards as she hid herself directly behind the wide screen of her computer.

"What?" Elsa laughed, and Emma peeked out from her personal hiding spot to find Killian. She let out a sigh of relief as she took in her mother chatting away with him, a friendly smile on his face and his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

"Emma, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" she heard Elsa ask. "God, you are so whipped."

"I am not!" Emma retorted immediately, her voice low as her cheeks flamed yet again. She let out a groan, slouching into her chair as her stomach flipped at the sound of his laughter.

She was in so much trouble.

Killian turned his head over his shoulder as Mary Margaret continued conversation with him, his eyes intentionally seeking out for those specific pair of greens. He felt his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that she had disappeared, and he hoped his expression didn't show his disappointment as he turned back towards Mary Margaret, his head bobbing along in agreement to whatever she was saying and his tone light.

Emma felt like the breath had been knocked right out of her as she had caught him turning towards her, his gaze eager and his eyes searching. But maybe, it had just been her eyes playing tricks on her.

Elsa's endless chatter and merciless teasing tuned Emma back into their conversation, and she nearly growled out a sigh.

"Elsa, if you don't shut up, so help me –"

"Alright, alright," Elsa laughed, sounding smug that she had been able to rile Emma up so much. "I'll be over with everything in about half an hour, we had an early start." She paused. "Am I gonna have to bring Graham with me to protect me?"

Emma grinned, this time her voice teasing yet innocent as she replied, "Oh, don't worry. He'd be there to protect you no matter what."

She heard Elsa take in a sharp breath and she wanted to let out a laugh of victory, knowing that her two best friends had major crushes on each other since the beginning of time itself. Emma loved them both and wanted the best for them, but they were always so stubborn when it came to their feelings.

"I hate you so much," Elsa grumbled after a pause, and Emma chuckled to herself as the phone line went dead, droning out with a monotone buzz.

Emma stood up, looking around discreetly for any sign of Killian. She had found him chatting away with Grumpy, who surprisingly looked more than happy to be chatting away with a stranger despite his normal grumpy attitude towards anyone and everyone, hence the nickname.

Emma smiled to herself, consumed by her own thoughts, and she hummed underneath her breath as she continued to busy herself with organizing paperwork.

Killian looked around after his conversation with Grumpy, hiding his curious and searching eyes as he took a sip of coffee out of his mug. The taste of the liquid burned and tingled against his tongue, but it sent a satisfying jolt of warmth down his spine. He sighed to himself, feeling surprisingly well-rested and content.

His eyes finally found Emma; her back was turned to him, and her hair rested in a tumbling waterfall down her shoulder. He itched to run his fingers through her hair, itched to hold her close and whisper a good morning into her ear, to make her laugh and smile whenever and as much as he wanted to. He bit back a groan, feeling overwhelmed and all too warm after his cup of coffee and now, the thoughts of Emma that swirled through his mind.

Mere moments later, he found himself at the foot of the front desk, Emma just a couple of feel away with her back still turned to him as she studied a folder in her hands. He panicked, suddenly feeling conscious and all too aware of their proximity, and he was just about to whirl around on his heel, hoping that he wouldn't cause any disturbance that would gain her attention, when she beat him to it, and the two of them came face to face with each other.

Emma looked at him, a stunned expression on her face before she blinked, and he watched in fascination as the apples of her cheeks flushed an endearing shade of pink. He gave her a smile, hoping that his nerves hadn't been too obvious, before he managed to finally open his mouth and speak.

"Good morning," he said softly as the corners of his lips turned upwards just by the slightest bit.

Emma grinned at him, "Morning. Uh, did you sleep well?"

"I did," he nodded, feeling slightly more confident as her smile hadn't faltered. "Good thing I decided to come in here instead of sleeping out in my truck full of orchids."

Emma let out a chuckle; he thought she'd have a pretty laugh, but hearing it instead of imagining it was beyond what she had in mind. The laughter tumbled out from beneath her lips, sounding genuine and happy, and it filled him with complete and utter warmth. Her eyes brightened to the prettiest shade of green and the skin around her eyes crinkled; he decided that he hadn't ever seen a more beautiful sight.

"Yeah, good thing." Emma mused in response. Their eyes remained locked together, the smile evident through the brightness of his expression, and she allowed another smile to overtake her lips as she casted her eyes downwards.

"Excuse me, Emma?" Killian faintly heard from beside him, and he turned to find a petite woman who immediately delved into conversation once she had gotten Emma's attention. He watched as Emma shot him an apologetic look and felt himself nod in understanding, and she promptly turned towards the woman, her smile light and her tone friendly.

He was distracted by her, too distracted to even focus on the muffin in his hands as he backtracked towards the breakfast table, leaving her behind the front desk with the woman several feet away. He felt too far away and he scolded himself for feeling so desperate and pathetic for her presence, but his body yearned for her; he yearned for her touch, her voice, her laugh, the smell and sound and very essence of _her_.

He yearned for Emma – _Emma, Emma, Emma – _it was as if the beat of his heart had already been breathing along to the sound of her name.

Killian looked up towards her, finding that her gaze had flitted over to him, too, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest. The softness in her gaze startled him into stillness, and he's suddenly aware, all too aware, of the effect that she's got on him.

He caught a bit of her smile as she turned back towards the woman, and he headed towards the front door. He decided right then and there that he could face any day as long as her smile was a part of it.

Emma looked after Killian as he disappeared through the front door, her stomach flipping nervously at the possibility of him never coming back. Her heart felt heavy when the door hadn't opened after it closed after him, and she sighed, wondering what she had been expecting. Even when he was gone, he stayed with her; he lingered in the back of her mind, haunting her throughout the day with his shy, hesitant smiles and the gentle timbre of his accented voice.

He was a ghost, and the love that she had for him raged on inside of her like a storm, and it couldn't be controlled.


	3. Three

_A/N; I am SO sorry for how long it's taken me to get this next chapter up - I hit a bit of a dead end and just couldn't find any inspiration to write all that much over hiatus, but I'm back now! I hope you all enjoy chapter three, it was so fun to write. Enjoy!_

If Emma Swan could be described in one word, it would be impatient.

She paced back and forth across the front lobby of the inn, the swiftness of her strides echoing through the thin and quiet air with a certain sense of ferocity. Emma nibbled at the chapped skin of her bottom nip and sucked on the inside of her cheek; she blew out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding and heaved out a heavy sigh before crossing her arms over her chest and giving herself a gentle reassuring squeeze.

The day had practically come and gone as soon as Killian had strode out of the front door several hours ago; the gentle rays that had filtered in through the thin curtains that shielded the windows morphed into bright waves of sunshine around midafternoon, and then they had dimmed into the muted afterglow of the evening sunset, the sky showing off its natural beauty through a sea of colors.

Emma's heart ached in a way that she hadn't thought was possible; she missed the sound of his voice and his the rumbling waves of his laughter, the way he carried himself and interacted with the townspeople, that gentle tilt of his lips that made her stomach flip and her heart clench, that stupidly ridiculous raise of his right eyebrow when he'd catch her subtly admiring him, the annoying yet exhilarating jolt that she would feel inside her veins whenever they'd pass by each other, barely missing the touch of one other's skin with only the tiniest bit of distance between them.

Emma Swan was falling for Killian Jones, and she was falling for him fast.

"If you think any harder I think you'll actually combust," came Elsa's teasing voice, causing Emma to pause her pacing and jump slightly in surprise.

_"__God," _Emma exhaled as her heart race accelerated. "You scared me."

"We've been here for a full _two hours!_" Elsa replied in exasperation, her lips morphing into a scowl as she nudged away Graham's lanky legs which had been splayed across her lap. He looked up from his phone, blinking blearily as his mop of curly brown hair ruffled from Elsa's rough movements.

"I didn't ask you to stay," Emma retorted, turning to face her friends as she placed her hands on her hips.

Elsa rolled her eyes, "Can you blame us for being worried? You've been here all day, you didn't even come by this afternoon to pick up the lunch order that Mary Margaret placed!"

"You have nothing to be worried about," Emma nearly cried out in frustration, tired of having to repeat herself after Elsa and Graham had barged in precisely twenty-seven minutes after Killian had left (not that she had been counting), scaring her out of her wits and demanding that the three of them go out for some pizza.

Emma had hesitated, causing Elsa's eyebrows to shoot up to her hairline while Graham had furrowed his. She wanted to laugh at her friend's reactions and how they seemed to know her so well; Emma Swan never declined a pizza date, even if it meant she'd be third-wheeling, but she immediately played it off to the best of her ability, giving them an anxious smile and hoping they didn't see through her lie when she said that her parents had given her some extra paperwork to sort out for the day.

"Flower boy will be back soon enough," Elsa reasoned. "He's probably out for the day, working on a fancy new arrangement. You have to get out of here and do _something _to pass the time. God, you're moping around as if you've just gotten dumped."

Emma opened her mouth to retort, but Graham beat her to it.

"Who the hell is flower boy?"

Elsa immediately reached over to give his arm a smack and Emma bit back a snort of amusement at his affronted expression.

"Emma's lover," Elsa supplied, sticking her tongue out at Graham as he made a face at her. Graham waggled his eyebrows as he turned to face Emma, and Emma scoffed in response.

"He is _not _my lover," she said defensively. "It's been two days since I met him, I barely even know the guy."

"Yeah, but you're in love with him." Elsa stated, her icy blue eyes flitting over her nails as she didn't spare Emma a second glance.

"I am not!"

"He could be a psychopath for all we know," Graham supplied in amusement.

"You're not helping," Elsa hissed. "My point is that Emma's in love with him. I mean, look at her! She's whipped."

"I am _not._"

"She so is," Elsa sing-songed, her tone light and her expression utterly amused. "Come _on, _Emma, you're being boring. Let's continue this discussion over some pizza, yeah? I'm starving."

Emma spun on her heel, making her way back towards the front desk as she rolled her eyes.

"You two lovebirds go ahead," she called over her shoulder towards Elsa and Graham. "I _do _have paperwork to finish, and I promised mom and dad that I'd have it done for them since they decided to call it an early night."

"See, even your parents are having a night to themselves!" Elsa argued as Emma watched Graham struggle to untangle his limbs from Elsa's. "Graham, you piece of – Snow White and Prince Charming, Emma! You're the princess in this story, it's time for your happy ending, too."

"Wow," Emma laughed as her friends joined her near the front. "Has Anna been practicing more fairytale-themed decorations for the cakes? You've been reading too much again."

Graham chuckled and Elsa muttered under her breath, her nose scrunched up in distaste as she wrapped her sweater around her thin frame.

"Are you _sure _you don't wanna come?" Elsa asked with a sigh, her eyes wide and hopeful as she stood beside Graham. "We'll order a large pizza with all our favorite toppings."

Emma was tempted. Almost.

She shook her head, "Sorry, I don't really feel like being the third wheel on this little impromptu date of yours."

"It's not a date!" Elsa and Graham snapped simultaneously, causing Emma to let out a burst of laughter.

"Of _course_ it's not," Emma winked. "But seriously, you two go have fun, I'll be fine."

"Party pooper," Elsa mumbled as Graham linked his arm through hers and began to drag her away.

"Who even says party pooper anymore?" Emma teased. "Child!"

"Love denier!" she called back from halfway through the front door.

"Look who's talking!"

"Shut _up!_"

"Bye, Emma!" Graham hollered, and Emma stifled a laugh at her friends' antics.

"Night, Sheriff! Watch over that one, will ya?"

"You know me," she heard him faintly respond as the distance between them grew. Emma shook her head, allowing the front door to fall shut and close behind her with a click.

Emma sighed, allowing the arms of the silence that surrounded her to wrap her in a comforting embrace. She turned towards the old grandfather clock that stood proudly beside the blazing fireplace, catching sight of its rusting hands as it read only half past seven. She pursed her lips, her eyes wandering around and over the lobby and she wracked her mind with things she could occupy herself with for the time being.

She fell into her office chair with a huff, rolling over towards her laptop before hitting a few keys and turning up the volume as gentle melodies crooned from the speakers set up around the front of the lobby.

Her eyes caught sight of the orchids as she stood, and she momentarily froze as bright blue eyes and a charming smile flashed into her mind. She shook her head, her heart strings tugging annoyingly within the confines of her chest and she found herself tracing the outlines of the slightly wilted petals with the tip of her index finger.

For a full half hour Emma distracted herself with irrelevant, mundane chores, and she wandered in and out of her room, humming whatever song was playing at the moment under her breath as she worked.

Emma organized a stack of books that had been messily hidden away at the corner of the desk, probably her father's doing, and unabashedly smiled at the hardcover that laid proudly on top: a decently-sized book on parenting. When her parents had found out that Mary Margaret was pregnant three short months ago, the three of them had been ecstatic. The whole town had rejoiced at the thought of another member being added to the Charming family, and her parents had gone mad trying to find all the old books that they had relied on when they were expecting Emma.

She took her time arranging them in the growing library that resided in her parents' room and precisely five minutes away, Killian Jones found himself and his old battered pickup truck rumbling back in to the quaint little town of Storybrooke.

Killian let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the town's welcome sign finally came into view. Earlier that day, he had gone off to deliver the orchids to the owner of the flower shop in the next town over, deciding that it was finally time to give his arrangements of orchids a new home rather than the stuffy backseat of his truck.

The commute to the town of Misthaven was shorter than he anticipated, and he found that his journey back to his lodge and blooming greenhouse near the forest on the outskirts of town wasn't too far away from Storybrooke, either.

He had gone back to his cozy lodge, immediately missing the homey aura that the Charming Inn had provided. Killian showered quickly before stuffing a few belongings and clean clothes into his backpack, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to give Storybrooke a bit more exploration. He stumbled into his greenhouse afterwards, checking up on his flowers and deciding to heave several premade arrangements into his truck to gift the tiny corner shop of flowers that he had seen right beside Granny's Diner. Killian pursed his lips and scratched his fingers through his growing stubble, frowning slightly at the realization that none of the arrangements he had already was _the one _for Emma.

Killian wandered through the greenhouse with a newfound sense of determination; he strolled up and down the aisles of flowers, observing the ones that had freshly bloomed. He stopped short in front of a section of yellow buttercups, their petals bowing openly towards rays of sunlight that filtered in through the glass windows.

He carefully snipped at the stems of the freshly bloomed buttercups until he had a decently-sized handful, and he returned to his makeshift work station in his lodge, sifting through his messily organized piles of colorful flowers for companions to the buttercups. Ten minutes later he blinked, not realizing how fast he had worked until he saw the new arrangement before him.

Buttercups, bluebells, freesias, and large leaves of green complimented each other with their stark colors, and no, Killian totally hadn't thought of Emma while he had put together the arrangement; he definitely hadn't thought of her and her golden hair that resembled rays of sunshine, or her bright green eyes that altered in shades based on the lighting that she was standing under, _or_ her sunny smile that made his insides melt, easily leaving him feeling simultaneously boneless and breathless.

He felt his cheeks burn with heat as his heart sped up at the thought of seeing her again. _Jesus, _he thought to himself, _snap out of it. _

He parked under that very same awning that had sheltered his truck from the onslaught of the storm that one fateful night he had stumbled into The Charming Inn, his orchids in tow. This time, he exited his truck with a sense of determination. He glanced over his shoulder at the inn, its front window lit up by a warm glow that illuminated the fairytale-like pathway that led to its entrance.

Killian hitched the cardboard box that held Emma's arrangement under his arms as he strode towards the inn, exhaling softly and watching as his breath fogged up and curled away into the cool evening air. The front door to the inn opened softly as he entered, and he was immediately greeted by the warm afterglow of the fire that danced delicately in the fireplace.

The curtains were drawn and fairy lights twinkled in elegant dips and curves as they floated over his head. Gentle melodies crooned from the speakers and the lights were dimmer than he remembered them to be, and Killian decided that he hadn't ever felt more at home.

He stepped further into the front lobby, stomping his boot-cladded feet lightly over the mat that sat right at the entrance, not wanting to walk in and leave a mess behind him just has he had done upon his first visit.

The sound of light footsteps caused Killian to freeze, and he momentarily began to panic; he hoped that it wasn't Mary Margaret or David that had stayed for the night, but he knew it was always Emma who preferred to take the later shift. Killian huffed out a breath, relaxing slightly as the faint sound of humming joined the mixture of sounds.

He glanced up and suddenly, she was there; she had a book held open in her hands, her palms holding either end of the hardcover as she hummed under her breath and allowed her eyes to flit over the page quickly. Her hair was open and loose, tumbling over her right shoulder in frizzy curls, and Killian could've sworn at that moment that he hadn't ever seen a more beautiful sight.

Emma looked up just as she was about to turn the page to her book, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet. Everything went still as she caught sight of him, and she wanted to pinch herself that his presence wasn't a hallucination after having missed him all day. She felt her eyes widen and her jaw threatened to drop in surprise, but instead she stood up straighter in place and resisted the urge to run a hand through her hair self-consciously.

Emma openly gaped at him, her heart thudding violently in her chest as the skin around his eyes crinkled upwards slightly. His hair was a disheveled mess, tousled from the wind and jutting out in random directions from his own fingers. His tanned skin practically glowed under the dim lighting of the room and she decided that navy blue was her new favorite color, as it was the shade of his long-sleeved Henley that he was wearing. His upper lip curled slowly before revealing his sparkly set of teeth, and she couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh at his grin.

"Hi," she finally managed, fidgeting slightly under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Killian grinned, "Hi,"

"You're back," she couldn't help but voice, immediately wanting to smack herself for stating the obvious.

"You noticed," he replied in a soft, teasing tone.

"Of course I did," Emma replied faintly, causing his grin to grow. She smiled shyly, bowing her head slightly before peering back up at him curiously after catching sight of the box in his hands. "What's in the box?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," he said excitedly, stepping around her and setting it on the front desk easily. "It's a gift."

Emma raised an eyebrow before blinking at him incredulously, recognizing the sincerity in his response.

"A gift?" she queried hesitantly.

Killian nodded, "For you."

Emma blinked, "For me?"

Killian laughed, nudging her with his shoulder and nodding towards the box in encouragement as he stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his denim jeans.

Emma hesitated, finding the need for a gift absolutely ridiculous, yet her heart stuttered in her chest and she willed herself to maintain her composure. She opened the box, picking at the flaps of cardboard before peering inside.

Killian watched, entranced, as Emma's breathing seemed to still. The apples of her cheeks tinged pink as her hands reached inside and pulled out the floral arrangement designed especially for her, and his stomach flipped as a slow smile spread across her lips.

Emma turned to face him, the vase of flowers still in hand as she tilted her to her right, her eyes light and playful.

"This is for me?" she questioned, her voice breathy and the pupils of her eyes blown wide.

Killian nodded furiously, "Do you, uh, do you like it?"

Emma grinned slowly, a faint flush of pink dusting across her skin, "Did you make it? Yourself?"

"Uh," he stuttered, feeling his own skin heat up as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"I love it," Emma responded, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together. Killian's breathing hitched as he stared down at their intertwined hands, and she bit back a smile before feeling the need to continue, "I mean, not that I wouldn't love it if you didn't make it. I still would, uh, I just like that you, y'know, thought of me which is why you put this together and brought it to me."

_God, _she thought to herself. _It hasn't even been ten minutes and I've already made myself look like a total idiot and I'm already smiling more than I have all day._

Killian blinked, taken aback momentarily by her babbling before he found himself coughing into his free hand to cover up his laughter. Emma chuckled as his hand squeezed hers, letting her know that he was just as nervous and anxious as she was.

"Sorry," Emma muttered, a wave of embarrassment washing over as she looked up to find Killian's amused expression.

"No, you're fine," he said with a shake of his head, immediately wanting to take his words back as the both of them stilled, realizing that there were two sides to the same coin at that moment. He resisted the urge to groan as he caught sight of Emma biting her lip, most likely attempting to keep another nervous bout of laughter at bay. "I mean, _shit, _I just meant –"

"It's okay," Emma reassured him with an easy laugh, her eyes alight with a beautiful sense of happiness. Killian's heart surged at the sight. "Do you, uh – d'ya wanna stick around for dinner or something? I, uh, made some pasta earlier and will have a ton of leftovers otherwise."

She ended her sentence in a questioning manner, cringing to herself at how awkward she sounded. Emma screwed her eyes shut for a brief moment, wanting to laugh at herself out of embarrassment; she didn't even know if he was staying, for goodness' sake. She tried to not let her hopes up, but her heart hammered away wildly in her chest as she caught sight of Killian's bright grin.

"Like a date?" he asked lightly, teasing her but immediately wishing he could take his words back as Emma paled.

"I – I mean," she stumbled. "I guess so? Only if you want it to be. We don't have to, of course, if you don't want to."

"I would love to," he replied, shuffling closer towards her and brushing a strand of her hair out of her face to send her a reassuring smile.

Emma let out a laugh of disbelief, unable to keep a smile of her own from growing on her lips. "Okay," she breathed, tugging on his hand as she led him towards the back room. He stumbled over his own feet, surprised by her actions and hiding his blush as she turned over her shoulder, letting out a bright, joyous laugh. "I'll need help adding the final touches and stuff," she explained. "The pasta just finished cooking, but the sauce isn't ready yet."

Killian watched as she flitted around the abstract room that seemed all too small and big at once; she sauntered towards the back right corner, where a mini kitchen stood in place. A faded plush sofa with several quilted throws and decorative cushions sat adjacent to the wall which held a numerous amount of shelves, each of them mounted with a random array of things.

He found himself gravitating towards a shelf that housed several picture frames, each of them displaying snapshots of Emma and her parents. He smiled fondly at the little girl with curly blonde hair, bright green eyes, and an endearing toothy smile.

"Killian?" he heard her call, and he turned his head over her shoulder, catching her gaze as she peeked around the room.

"Over here," he responded, stepping out from the shadows of the corner of the room and watching as she let out a breath. He shot her a smile, "Need some help?"

"Please," she laughed slightly, shifting the bowls of pasta in her arms as she gripped a bottle of sauce. Killian stepped in front of her, taking the bowls from her, the cool surface of the glass simmering against the heat of his skin. Their hands brushed, and the contact nearly caused the bowl to tumble out from Emma's hands.

"Don't worry, I got it," Killian reassured as he took in her horrified expression. She breathed out a sigh of relief, giving him a small smile as she gathered her hair in her hands and brushed it over one shoulder. Killian swallowed at the sight of the pale skin of her slender neck in the dim room, and he resisted the urge to reach over and fiddle with strands of her hair.

They sat together on the couch, their bodies sinking into the plush material causing the both of them to burst out into laughter simultaneously. Emma shared the story of how the sofa came to be and didn't bother to hide the embarrassing antics of her father at the garage sale that he had first found the sofa at. He told her about his parents back in Ireland and the story of how they fell in love; it was his favorite story he had ever heard, even though his parents had separated when he was rather young, crushing his hopes of love but having that tiny glow of hope remaining in his heart.

Emma rambled on about how much she loved the sea after Killian told her that his older brother, Liam, lives near the Irish coast with his wife and newborn daughter. Emma shared stories about her childhood best friend, Lily, and all the trouble that they had gotten into when Emma was off at college. She talked about coming back to Storybrooke with her parents after they had moved away for some time and how they came to opening up the Inn. He told her about how he became interested in flowers and botany; it was his mother and her undeniable admiration towards nature and its beauty, and he figured he could constantly supply people with happiness while sharing the beauty of nature through his own work.

"What's your favorite flower?" she asked him, curiosity getting to the best of her.

He shrugged, "It depends, I guess. Varies a lot. Different flowers mean different things, so I guess it goes with whatever I'm feeling or thinking at the moment."

"Huh," Emma murmured, snorting lightly as he slurped at his pasta, a boyish grin making his way onto his face as Emma grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the corners of his lips.

They continued to exchange stories, adding in contagious laughter and heart-stopping smiles. Two hours later, they found themselves tangled in each other's presence; Emma's head rested on his chest, his cheek was pressed into her hair and their palms were held out in front of them, fingers intertwined as they studied each other's hands.

"Thank you for tonight," Killian whispered, his breath washing over her cheek as she turned to face him.

Emma smiled shyly, "Thank you for coming back."

"Always," he vowed, causing Emma's breathing to shallow as she took in the sincerity that swam in his eyes.

"It's late," Emma whispered reluctantly, sitting up and harshly swallowing the ball of emotion that clogged her throat. She took their empty bowls of pasta off of the coffee table and placed them in the sink, breathing steadily in and out through her nose.

She hesitantly returned to him, wiping the palms of her hands on her jeans as she slowed her footsteps and stood in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, giving her an adoring smile that made her stomach flip and her heart flutter, before holding out his hand for hers.

"May I walk you back to your room, milady?" he asked teasingly, taking her hand in his and leading her out of the backroom.

Emma nodded as she let out a laugh, her heart soaring in her chest out of gratefulness and giddiness as she trailed behind him.

"Which hallway?" he queried as he stopped short near the stairs that led to the second floor.

Emma flushed under his curious gaze, opening and closing her mouth as she fumbled for a way to tell him that her room was _right _across from his, not that she had intentionally made it that way.

"What is it?" he asked with a slight laugh, an eyebrow arching up as she squirmed under his scrutiny.

"I promise that I didn't do this on purpose," she finally said as she led him towards her room. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, thinking they were on his way to his room before she stopped short in front of the door directly opposite of his.

Killian let out a light chuckle, realizing the irony of the situation and attempting to stifle his laughter.

"This happened completely by chance," she insisted, holding her hands up as she let out a laugh of her own. "I drew your key from the chest completely at random, I didn't know your room was gonna be the one _right_ across from mine."

"Well, maybe," he began lightly, taking a strand of her hair and curling it around his finger. "It was fate."

Emma stared up at him, swallowing harshly as she momentarily lost control of her own breathing for the briefest of moments.

"Maybe," she finally managed. As a boost of confidence surged through her, she stepped up on her tip toes and she leaned into him, her nose brushing against the roughness of his stubble before quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. She smiled to herself as she listened to his breathing hitched, and she quickly stepped away, shooting him a smile as she swiftly unlocked the door to her room. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight," he whispered in response, a bright grin spread across his face as he stared after her. "Emma, wait," he said, stepping into her door frame before she could shut it. "Pink carnations."

"What?" Emma asked breathlessly, a befuddled expression taking over her features as she blinked at him.

"My favorite flower," Killian laughed. "At the moment I'd say they're pink carnations."

"Pink carnations," Emma repeated. "What do they mean?"

"Gratitude," he murmured, stepping closer to her as he reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck. "I'm grateful that I came across this inn and met you, although that freak thunderstorm that drenched me wasn't the highest of my moments. But I think it'll make a hell of a story one day."

Emma's tongue suddenly felt too heavy for her to speak as she fumbled with her words, her heart stuttering inside her chest as she became hyper aware of their close proximity and his warm, enticing touch.

Killian leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, running his fingers through her hair as he removed his hand from the back of her neck. She breathed him in, her eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his presence came and went.

"Goodnight, Emma," he said with one final smile.

"Goodnight."


End file.
